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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694742">At The Party</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower'>thelotusflower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, M/M, Party, Underage Drinking, Wow, idk - Freeform, tweek x main 4 friendship, what to tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:46:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweek is dragged to Token’s party by his friends, only to be immediately ditched by them. He then proceeds to spill his drink all over the carpet, freak out, and then almost spill his drink all over Craig Tucker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At The Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, I wrote this like 2 and half years ago, so it's pretty different than my normal writing style, and even the pairings I've included are different than my normal ones 🤣 Anyways. Hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He feels a tightness in his throat; oh, God.</p><p> </p><p>It accompanies with a fast and loud beating heart, sweaty palms, and a pit in his stomach. Jesus. He needs to get out of here.</p><p> </p><p>There’s too many people; too much sensory, too much <em> pressure. </em>The drink in his trembling, clumsy and sweaty hands drops to the floor, the little remains of liquid spilling all over the carpet. “Oh God!” Tweek exclaims aloud, darting his eyes around to find anything to dry it up with. His sight is mostly blocked by a group of teenagers, a game of beer pong and some couple sucking face. “AH!” he shrieks. He can’t just leave the spill on the floor. This isn’t his house.</p><p> </p><p>He drops to the floor, dabbing the carpet with the bottom of his shirt in a pitiful last resort.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even know why he’s here. His friends - mostly Cartman - are assholes and wanted him to be their designated driver. They gave him one drink, telling him it’d be fine to drink just that and that it’d probably calm down his nerves a little. He didn’t even want to come. They basically guilted him into it. They always do this shit. He isn’t sure why he is friends with them sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>The second they dropped him off him a drink, they left. He assumes Stan is with Wendy somewhere, Kenny and Kyle are probably flirting with some chicks, and he remembers Cartman saying something about going into Token’s, the party thrower’s, room to retrieve something he lost in a bet. Tweek wouldn’t be surprised if Cartman was just plain out stealing though, always jealous of Token’s rich lifestyle.</p><p> </p><p>He seriously does not understand why he is friends with these jerk faces.</p><p> </p><p>At least Cartman.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing, dude?” </p><p> </p><p>He shrieks at the voice, springing up in panic. He bumps his head into the red solo cup in the interrogator’s hand, nearly knocking that one to the floor as well. Luckily, this person is much more steady than Tweek, and manages to only spill a single drop.</p><p> </p><p>“I-, Sorry, I’m--AH,” Tweek shakes his head. “Is your drink fine?” he asks, knowing full well it’s still secure in the boy’s hand, but having nothing else to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it’s fine,” he confirms in that monotone voice. “Are you…?” he inspects, looking at him quizzically.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek feels his eye twitch. “Yeah, um, nngh. I spilled my drink,” he glances to the floor shamefully, stuffing his hands in his jeans.</p><p> </p><p>“Want me to get you another?” the boy, Craig, asks.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek’s eyes widen. Craig is one of Token’s best friends! Why would he offer him another drink, after spilling one already on the floor? Token is surely going to get in trouble. He doubts his parents <em> know </em> he is having this party. Tweek will probably give the whole thing away! They’ll see the stain, know it’s alcohol, and figure out their son threw a party while they were away, and it will be all Tweek’s fault. Now, Craig <em> knows </em>it’s him, so as Token’s best friend, he’ll let Token know, and Token will tell his parents it’s all his fault, and call his parents, and his parents will have to pay for new carpet to be put in, and -</p><p> </p><p>“Tweek,” he hears Craig say his name, and two fingers jabbing into his shoulder, “Tweek!”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek snaps out of it, meeting Craig’s dark gray eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Rrrrrr, I can’t. I’m sorry. I--the carpet. It, ahh, it’s gonna leave a stain!” he nearly shouts, grabbing his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Who cares?” Craig dismisses. “It’s a fucking party. I’m sure there will be tons of stains. Token is hiring someone to clean it professionally. They’ll get it out. Relax, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek lets out a deep exhale. Cleaners. Lots of stains. Good. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. So,” Craig tries again, longing out pauses between his words. “Want another?” Craig offers.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I am the DD.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” Craig says after a moment, “those guys are really assholes.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek opens his eyes at Craig. He still feels his whole body jittering, but he thinks he is finally beginning to calm down, maybe from the first moment his friends left him in the middle of this stupid fucking party.</p><p> </p><p>With his mind settling down, he now begins to process what’s happening.</p><p> </p><p>Why is Craig Tucker paying so much attention to him?<br/><br/></p><p>Sure, they’re friends, but it’s mostly in passing. Mostly, on event occasions. They’ve worked together on school projects, played games together as kids, played on the same sports teams, hung out of school with everyone <em> else, </em> but they aren't <em> close. </em></p><p> </p><p>So, why is he here right now?<br/><br/></p><p>Tweek is clearly a mess. He’s always a mess. That’s why he doesn’t really have many close friends. Even Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and… Cartman. They are probably his closest friends and all, but he wouldn’t even consider himself to be part of their group. Sometimes they included him, sometimes they wouldn’t invite him to things for weeks. He honestly didn’t mind it. He needed breaks from their stressful schemes, and he sort of liked the time to himself. No one really truly understood him.</p><p> </p><p>Craig could be somewhere else, having a blast, but instead he decided to come over here and talk to someone who was an inch away from having an anxiety attack.</p><p> </p><p>“You never come to parties, and the one time you do, they make you drive their dumb asses?” Craig goes on. “I fucking can’t stand them.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek finds himself nodding and agreeing without even really meaning to. “Yeah, they’re like that sometimes,” Tweek confesses. “I didn’t mind driving,” which is kind of a lie, considering Tweek avoids driving as much as he can; driving giving him anxiety, “I just - they didnt’ have to fucking ditch me the second they got here.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig responds, but Tweek can’t hear him over the blaring music. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t hear you!” Tweek shouts.</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t accept anything else from those dumb fucks. Especially Cartman. Token literally got a lock on his room after finding out Cartman was coming.”</p><p> </p><p>This <em> actually </em>makes Tweek grin. “Serves the fatass right.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Craig asks.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek doesn’t know if Craig didn’t hear him, or just didn’t understand what Tweek meant, but Tweek just responds with a shake of the head, and “nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>A moment passes where they are both just standing there. He doesn’t want to stare, so he just looks around the room, his eyes bouncing back to Craig from time to time, Craig always appearing to be looking at nothing in particular.</p><p> </p><p>He<em> knows </em>Craig is planning his escape, that he is trying to come up with some excuse to get out of this weird interaction with him.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek still doesn’t get it. He feels a jitter go through him. This situation is making him nervous.</p><p> </p><p>Like he said, him and Craig are friends and all, but Craig has never been that nice, taking initiative, welcoming, guy. That’s more so Token. Craig is actually probably the least welcoming guy in that group of friends, always appearing apathetic and indifferent.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek decides to save Craig the trouble of prying himself away, and decides to be the one to leave. </p><p> </p><p>“I think I’m gonna go outside. Get some air,” he shouts over the music that seems to just be getting louder. “I’ll see you around!” Tweek begins to turn quickly.</p><p> </p><p>To Tweek’s surprise, Craig grabs his arm. He lets go right when Tweek turns to face him, confused. <em> Is this where Craig reveals his evil master plan of humiliating him - the reason he came over here? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says instead. </p><p> </p><p>Tweek is confused.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s… fine, right?” Craig says after a moment in his basic, standard voice, but sounding almost insecure about it. <em> Almost.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Tweek readjusts his face, his expression probably the reason for the discrepancy in Craig’s usual straight, always the same, montone. Maybe it was just a glitch though. Craig doesn’t care about <em> Tweek. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Sure, yeah, okay,- if yeah.”</p><p>
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</p><p>They sit outside for a while. It’s fucking cold. It’s the middle of May, but because they live in the fucking mountains, it’s freezing still.</p><p> </p><p>Tweek didn’t bring much. He never really does. He is always in a rush, and always forgets one thing or another. He thought they’d mostly be inside so he wasn’t really too worried about a coat or anything. Luckily, he is at least wearing a long sleeve shirt.</p><p> </p><p>He isn’t sure why Craig is out here with him. They have barely spoke. They talked about school for a bit, about Token’s parents (they are on cruise in the Bahamas for their twentieth anniversary and they do <em> not </em>know Token’s throwing a party.) Craig told him Clyde was trying to fuck Bebe (Craig’s words, not his) and Token was somewhere off with his girlfriend, Nichole. </p><p> </p><p>Still, even with Craig’s closest friends busy, he really couldn’t find someone better to talk to than him?<br/><br/></p><p>It’s really fucking cold. Craig will probably go back in soon. Then he’ll be alone. He doesn’t really <em> want </em>it to be that way, but he’ll feel less pressure. Craig is a pretty good guy. He deserves to have a good night. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Nnngh,” Tweek feels himself breaking. He just can’t take it anymore. “Why are you out here, Craig?” Tweek asks, locking eyes on the boy next to him in the blue hat. “Augh! Don’t you wanna have fun?” he asks.</p><p><br/>“No,” Craig answers easily. “Not like that, at least.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t like parties?” Tweek asks.</p><p> </p><p>Craig shrugs. He has a beer in his hand. He had gone inside only once since they got out here to retrieve one. Tweek half expected him to not come back, but he did.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Craig answers most things like this. Tweek suspects this is <em> why </em>they have never been close. They’re, like, exact opposites. Tweek wonders what it is like in Craig’s mind. Is he as simple as he portrays? Is everything just one straight line instead of a mess of big ol’ knots and scribbles?</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you come?” Tweek wonders.</p><p> </p><p>Craig shrugs again.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Make sure I don’t miss anything fun.”</p><p> </p><p>Tweek has heard a lot of stories about a lot of parties. Most of it just sounds like a bunch of stress and panic, if you ask him.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you glad you’re at this one?”</p><p> </p><p>Craig isn’t even looking at him, but he can’t take his gaze from Craig. He watches him think it over. He wonders where the thought goes. If it’s traveling fast, like his, or slow, like he predicts. Slow and steady and straight. Craig squints his eyes. He blinks. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe everything is not so simple.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, you’re not bad company,” he says, still not even offering him a glance. He says it like it didn’t take long to mull over, like it was the answer he had all along, and was just purposely adding suspense by taking longer. He said everything with such conviction and confidence, Tweek couldn’t help but feel jealous and… <em> awed </em>? In a way.</p><p> </p><p>“I--hmmph,---you don’t have to be out here with me, ya know.” Tweek finally states, looking away. “You can go make sure there’s nothing fun going on inside.” He doesn’t mean to sound snobby or snappy about it, but he feels like he does. Still, he lets it go. </p><p> </p><p>Craig takes a moment to respond. Tweek’s sure <em> this </em>will be the moment he steps up, goes back inside, and doesn’t speak to Tweek for the rest of the night, and for a few weeks, for that matter (like normal.)</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, I’ll stay out here.”</p><p> </p><p>And he does. He stays for the rest of the night, until Tweek has to drive the others home.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t get it. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks about it the whole way home, ignoring all his friends’ drunken loudness, his thoughts of Craig Tucker blurring them out.</p><p>
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</p><p>When he gets home, after collapsing in his bed, he gets a text from the boy whom he had just spent hours talking to. What else could he possibly say? Tweek wonders, almost in a panic. He predicts himself for something like: <em> yeah, i felt sorry for you tonight but don’t expect that to happen again, </em> or <em> thanks for ruining my night </em> , or <em> you owe $100 for the carpet, </em>but it surprisingly doesn’t say any of that.</p><p> </p><p>Instead the text reads:</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I am just thinking still about what you asked earlier, if I’m glad I went tonight… Answer: yes. It was actually fun hanging with you. If you ever want a break from those asshats, i’m down to hang.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>For whatever reason, it causes this weird feeling, tightness, in Tweek’s stomach. He keeps re-reading it. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> still </em>doesn’t get it. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he was just super wasted tonight (even though it was obvious that he wasn’t. He was pretty functional. Maybe a little buzzed, but nothing beyond that.)</p><p>Tweek knows nothing will probably happen. They’ll hangout, sure, but it’s not like they were going to become like super best friends, Stan and Kyle, or even like, Craig and Token. </p><p> </p><p>After fifteen minutes of deciding what to respond, Tweek just responds with: </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>yeah, same! Sounds good. Thanks! </b>
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</p><p>Craig never replied. Tweek figures he was just drunk, and won’t ever talk to him again about it,  but when he goes to school Monday morning, Craig talks to him. Tweel still sits with his friends at lunch and on the bus ride home from school, but Craig goes out of his way to reach out to him, and every time he does, he feels a new butterfly rip from its cocoon. </p><p> </p>
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